Trojan Whores by Syra Bond Page A

down and laughed as bucket after
bucket of cold water was sluiced over her. Her head was knocked
from side to side by the force of it. Her nipples ached, her skin
tingled, and she struggled to get her breath.
    She was
dragged to her feet. They did not dry her. She was led dripping and
shivering through a door into the next room. She glanced back to
the hooded women. She saw the pitiful figure of Chryseis. Just to
know she was there reduced her loneliness. Perhaps Chryseis would
forgive her, understand why she could not help. As she stared her
face was gripped in powerful hands and turned away from the sight
of the friend she had let down.
    The room was
dark. No torches lit it. 'Aha! At last, my little prize.'
    Polydorus
walked towards her out of the gloom. 'Light!' he shouted.
    Torches were
brought in hurriedly. Their flames reflected a turmoil of wriggling
shapes on the dark walls. Sappho shrank back in terror.
    'Do not be
afraid,' said Polydorus. 'They are merely shadows.' He took her
face between his hands and pointed it towards the ceiling. 'Of
these!'
    Sappho stared
upwards, terrified. Many ropes were suspended from the ceiling, all
different lengths, different thicknesses. Between them were leather
slings and tapes, some shining with moisture, others glistening
with silver studs and buckles.
    Polydorus
laughed. 'Secure her. Make her ready for my special guest. I do not
want to disappoint my own dear brother.'
    A guard lifted
her up in his muscular arms. He held her high, her sex close to his
face. First her arms were stretched out and her wrists secured to
leather slings. The pressure on her chest was almost unbearable.
She squirmed from side to side to try and relieve it. The guard was
so strong that for all her twisting and turning he held her easily.
Her legs were pulled wide and her ankles laced around with wet
leather loops. She felt her sex open as her legs were stretched
apart, and felt a warmth against it. The guard had drawn her close
to him, close enough to reach with his probing tongue. He drew the
flat of it against her sex lips. She allowed herself to drop onto
his hands, hoping to relieve the pressure on her wrists, hoping to
let him take the full weight of her body. But the slings on her
wrists were stretched so tight they kept her fast, stretched,
strained and wracked with pain.
    The guard's
tongue lapped again. He drew it against her clitoris, pressing,
circling its base. He licked to the rear, stopping for a moment
before letting the tip enter her anus. She wanted to drop down onto
it, to wriggle herself over it, to take it in as far as possible.
She wanted him to taste her. She wanted him to feed on her, to
delve into her rectum, to feast on her. She wanted him to exploit
her exposure fully, to stretch her wider, to probe deeper with his
wet tongue. She wanted him to use her, to deny himself nothing, to
consume her completely in any way he chose.
    She tightened
her arms against the leather at her wrists. She lifted herself. She
pulled against the tension of her own weight. She stretched herself
in an effort to make herself more open to him. He took the swollen
flesh of her cunt in his mouth, sucking it, drinking its wetness.
She felt her body filling with heat, consuming everything she was.
She tightened her buttocks and felt her nipples pulsing. She felt
the flood of ecstasy beginning to flow. She braced herself for it.
Then suddenly it stopped. The tongue was not there. The heat was
abating. The fear returned.
    A slashing cut
across her stretched buttocks made her wince with pain. She
squirmed against her bonds, her legs wide, her arms outstretched,
her sex exposed. Another slash of the cane and she shrieked.
Another and she twisted hopelessly, contorting in confusion,
frustration and fear.
    'Leave her
be!' shouted Polydorus. 'Save her for the wishes of my brother. Let
him decide her punishment.'
    Sappho hung in
her bonds, the straps around her wrists cutting painfully into her
skin, the loops at her